Replay
by felicitysinclair
Summary: James Moriarty always gets what he wants. However, that's not the case when he meets Felicity Sinclair. James MoriartyxOC oneshot OOC James Moriarty


Fear; it's a sign of weakness.

In Russia, caring and showing any manners seems to be a weakness for them. Strange but true.

He was the type of man that had no weaknesses. He was immune to pain, heartbreak, loss. He would never dare shed a tear at the loss of a relative or a close friend. He was the Devil in disguise and would never allow anyone to forget it.

She was different, however.

He would find himself thinking about her multiple times during the day and during the darkest moments in the night. She would always be in the back of his mind whenever he attempted to get work done. It was..unprofessional, or so they would say.

And people began to notice. They noticed the way he would go off in a daze sometimes but none of them dared point it out to him.

He had barely spoke to the woman and she had managed to trap herself within his mind, and no matter how hard he tried she was always there. Every second of every day she was there. Her smile would always be there. The way it radiated throughout the room would be the last thing he thought of before he fell asleep.

His eyes searched the room of another extravagant party that he had been reluctantly invited to. He hunted for the familiar (e/c) eyes that made his stomach tie in a knot.

He turned his head and there she was. She stood with three other men, her laughter filling the silence that surrounded him. Her smile made his eyes scan over her lips and the way they curled into it. Her hand rested on the arm of one of the men closest to her whenever she laughed. She was wearing a simplistic (f/c) dress and her hair was tied into a simple bun.

He strolled towards her. He rested is hand on her shoulder and smiled at the men before him.

"Sorry to disturb you gentlemen, but I would to steal this one away."

Each of them men glanced between each other before nodding their heads one by one. He smiled down at the woman, her arm wrapped around his own peacefully.

He pulled her away from the men and into a excluded area of the party. The area seemed to group emptier as men and women realized who was entering the perimeter.

"So, you're Moriarty. I've heard a lot about you." She said, a smirk peeling onto her lips as she looked up at the well dressed man.

"You can call me Jim."

"Jim," She rolled his name along her tongue several times.

The way that she purred his name made unknown shivers tingle down his spin. He walked towards her. Her back hit the wall.

"What's your name then?"

He played with a small strand of her hair that was hanging loosely around her face, complimenting her features perfectly.

"I think that's for me to know and for you to find out."

"Oh, playing hard to get?"

"Yes, does that bother you?"

She knew exactly who she was dealing with. Everyone in this room knew who she was dealing with, but she wasn't afraid of him. And why should she be afraid of him?

He was a powerful man, yes. He had killed many people and not care, but she did not see the desire of being so terrified or wary of him.

"I always get what I want." He growled in her ear.

She laughed. He tensed at the sound.

He couldn't allow her to know what effect she had on him. No one was allowed to know what effect she had on him.

"Well, looks like you need to learn some patience." She whispered in his ear.

Her cold breath against his ear created a shiver that swept across his body.

"And you need to learn some manners." He retorted.

"Awwh, looks like my father didn't teach me very well." She joked. She smirked.

He chuckled, his lips imitating her smile.

"This was lovely, _Jim_, but I believe a few gentlemen callers are calling me. Such a shame we have to finish so soon." She pecked his cheek and wriggled away from him.

"See you soon, Moriarty." She winked at him before merging into the crowd of people that were mingling with one another, the tedious voices mixed with laughter filling his ears.

He watched in bewilderment as the woman's (h/c) and (f/c) dress evaporated into the crowd, leaving him to stand alone once more.


End file.
